


Inquest

by dogmatix, norcumi



Series: Through a Mirror Darkly [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton
Genre: GFY, Gen, Sith!Obi-Wan, Sith!Qui-Gon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 04:19:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6455524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogmatix/pseuds/dogmatix, https://archiveofourown.org/users/norcumi/pseuds/norcumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the council investigates the bombing and prepares to render verdict, students confer with teachers, and a secret comes to light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inquest

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to MoreCivilizedAge for a lovely beta!

Plo sighed, his mask giving it a slight artificial echo.

The good news was, the intra-system negotiations regarding the vertex had concluded peacefully, and the Jedi Temple was still standing, nobody outside the Order any the wiser of how close to destruction the entire structure had come.

The bad news was, there had been several deaths, even with Micah and Qui-Gon managing to save the day, and that the main witness to Xanatos’ misdeeds was the young initiate he’d managed to sway to his cause. Then there was the question as to whether Xanatos’ death had been a deliberate maneuver by Qui-Gon and Micah.

Plo didn’t believe it for a second, but the Council needed to be sure.

It was quite the headache to come home to.

One that his old Master, Tyvokka, insisted on dragging him into.

Plo glared at the Wookiee sitting across from him, but he was far too experienced to fight this useless battle. It didn’t hurt Tyvokka’s cause that Plo could see the exhaustion and stress riding his Master’s shoulders. This investigation was wearing on all those involved.

“Master.” Plo tried to keep his voice even. “This is not a matter to be discussing with someone who is not on the Council.”

Tyvokka gave him that overly innocent look that meant he was up to things. [If I cannot confide in my Padawan, then what purpose is there to Knighting you and kicking you out of the tree?]

Plo rolled his eyes. If Tyvokka brought up the damned Council business one more time, he was going to resort to immature pranks he had not engaged in since he _had_ been a padawan. That couldn’t be any worse than telling Tyvokka yet again he had less than no interest in a Council seat. “Then please, Master, do enlighten me with all the illicit details of your day.”

Tyvokka’s grin was a fleeting thing, which sobered Plo past his annoyance. [Bruck Chun’s testimony.]

Plo winced. It was no surprise that the boy was bartering his cooperation for leniency. He had been an accomplice, but none of the truly awful crimes could be pinned on him. He could not even be implicated fully in the deaths of Garen and Master Ali-Alann – security footage showed that while Chun had engaged Initiate Muln in battle, that had only kept Muln from getting caught in the battle between the adults. When Xanatos had finished with Master Ali-Alann, Chun had disengaged to capture Initiate Eerin.

Accomplice, but not a murderer. There was not even solid proof that the boy would have detonated the bomb if he had been given the opportunity to. Plo somehow managed to keep his opinion about that matter to himself, though the way Tyvokka bared his fangs made it clear the old Wookiee did not like that the greatest punishment Chun faced was exile from the Order.

 _But what else would we do? We are Jedi. Killing yet another youngling in this mess would not make anything right._ Plo sighed. “Is he still trying to spin the blame to land on young Kenobi?”

Tyvokka wobbled a paw back and forth. [Less than in the first round of questioning. It helps that Kenobi is a steady presence, even through all the grief and upset at being interrogated for hours by the Council. No one believes it, even with Mace repeatedly reminding us we must be neutral arbiters.]

Plo made a noise of acknowledgement, steepling his hands and frowning down at them. Xanatos’ death couldn’t be easy for Qui-Gon to deal with, although what little Plo had seen of Qui-Gon’s interactions with his new Padawan was encouraging. Plo privately thought it had been too long since his old friend had taken a padawan. Qui-Gon was diligent in his pursuit of the Living Force, and that made him more...empathic, more passionate than most Jedi really liked. It also meant that he did better when he had someone to train, to travel with.

Plo had no reservations about Qui-Gon’s abilities as either a Jedi or a teacher, no matter how unconventional the human was at either. Plo himself had taken time to learn the way of the Baran Do. His people’s Force users had traditions the Order also frowned upon, but it was well within his rights and his purview to study them. He was sure that Qui-Gon would benefit from having a student, but between the timing of missions, Qui-Gon’s tendency to stay away from the Temple, and now this damned inquest, he hadn’t had the chance to talk with either of them.

He looked forward to the end of the inquest, so that he could have a proper visit with Qui-Gon. It would be unwise at the moment, sadly. Plo had too many ties to the head of the Council – to his former Master, who was running the damn thing – to trust that a neutral visit of two old friends would not be viewed as some attempt to manipulate events. It was absurd, and it was unlikely that anyone would think it, but best not to muddy matters.

“Tomorrow is the last day of testimonies?”

[Master Tahl will be presenting her findings on Offworld Mining, then the last round with Master Jinn.] Oh Force help him, Tyvokka almost looked innocent as he peered at Plo. [Since you seem to have an interest in the Council’s findings so far as pertaining to the verdict with Master Jinn, perhaps you’d like to come sit in on the session?]

“You were the one to come knocking on my door to vent, Master, I did not go to you for the latest juicy inside details of the Council like a mynock on–”

[Yes, yes your point is made.] Tyvokka’s grin faded, and he shook his head. Once again, Plo was reminded that his Master was old. [If you ever stop feeling amused by this, I will stop. But I hope you understand I would appreciate a level head and a friendly face in the Council room. We are too often caught up in politics instead of actually guiding the Order.] He sighed and slumped in the chair. [Some days I wish I could start a good coup and run things the right way.]

“We may agree on some matters, Master, but I doubt giving you unlimited power is one of them.” That at least got a smile from Tyvokka, so he had to try for more. “Besides, if I were _that_ easy to manipulate, you wouldn’t want me on the Council in the first place.”

Tyvokka snickered. [I could offer you a place as my second in command.]

“Ah, so you have all the power, and I am left doing all the work. No thank you, Master, I shall continue to rebuff your subtle advances.”

* * *

Obi-Wan was only been able to remain in Qui-Gon’s apartment for so long. His master was still being questioned by the Council, and Obi-Wan just couldn’t stand to stay inside any longer. The apartment didn’t feel like home, especially since all of Obi-Wan’s things from his Initiate quarters had been destroyed or redistributed. He didn’t miss much except maybe the spacefighter models he’d built, but thinking of those just reminded him of Garen all over again, so he stopped that train of thought. There were a handful of Qui-Gon’s knick-knacks scattered around, and Obi-Wan investigated those for a while. It didn’t calm him though. There was a plant, but it was a succulent, and doing fine on its own, so he couldn’t even fiddle with that.

Obi-Wan’s thoughts circled back to the same subjects they always did, recently. He was being trained as a Sith. He had regularly been in the presence of the entire Council for hours, with them asking so many questions his head was still spinning.

And there was still Garen.

No, if he remained in the rooms any longer he was either going to wear a hole in the floor with his pacing, or scream.

The halls were still lightly populated, many Jedi still rattled from the attacks and the final, temple-shaking explosion. At least no one seemed to recognize him as the padawan responsible for so much more of that mess than he ever really wanted to contemplate.

He ran into Bant coming from the commissary, but that didn’t help either. Instead of their normal camaraderie, there was some strange gulf between them, shaped by Garen’s death and Obi-Wan’s discomfort over his Sith training. It was an awkward conversation, leaving him walking away and burning with a longing and jealousy of Bant’s Jedi detachment that made Garen’s death to be just...something that happened. Not something horrible, not something that kept Obi-Wan awake at night or curling around his pillow once he shook off the nightmares. Garen was one with the Force, and Bant was _serene_ about it.

It was almost a relief to feel a sour twist to the Force, the sensation of hostility and resentment slammed behind mental shields a moment later. Obi-Wan’s head jerked up, and for the first time since Garen’s death he saw Bruck without the restraining presence of the Council. Oh, there was a Guardian standing near the alcove Bruck sat in, but she was standing a polite distance away and her eyes seemed focused on the wall past him rather than making sure her charge didn’t get up to any trouble.

“Come to gloat, Oafy-Wan?” Bruck sneered, leaning back and gingerly crossing his arms, careful of his still-healing collarbone.

Some of Obi-Wan’s anger dribbled out of him, and he slumped a bit as he walked closer to the little meeting alcove. “No.” It would have been harder, if he didn’t feel a similar sense of anger and frustration with himself, and Qui-Gon, and the whole ugly mess.

Bruck rolled his eyes. “Oh, thank you so much, _Padawan_ Kenobi,” he drawled. “Your ever shining example uplifts us all.”

Some of the anger snapped back into place. “What is your problem? All this, you helped do this much damage to the Order, the Temple– ”

“Which is just going to kick me to the curb, _padawan_. Let’s face it, even the AgriCorps won’t take me.”

“Garen is _dead_ because of us, and you’re sulking over consequences? You made _choices_ , and now only some of us can live with them.”

Bruck’s hands clenched into fists, but he remained seated, his eyes darting over to the Guardian then back to Obi-Wan. “I didn’t make a choice to age out even after being the best initiate in our age group. I didn’t make a choice to come to the temple in the first place! You’re complaining because I finally stepped up and _made_ a choice, Oafy-Wan? What have you chosen lately? How to bow and scrape enough to Qui-Gon Jinn that he’ll let you polish his lightsaber?”

The innuendo was hardly subtle, and Obi-Wan fought back a spike of indignant rage. As if Qui-Gon would ever abuse his position like that. No, Bruck wanted to get a rise from Obi-Wan, which was enough reason to deny him one. And Obi-Wan...had to admit that Bruck might have a point about their mutual lack of options, but that didn’t mean Bruck had made good decisions! Though even Obi-Wan had to admit that his own decision about the matter – becoming a Sith Apprentice – had indeed been a choice, and he’d made it with eyes wide open, even knowing it might be beyond foolish.

Before he could figure out what to say, a figure turned the corner and walked up to them. It was a human man, silver-haired in dark brown tunics, a stern face. Obi-Wan gulped and took a step back, eyes wide even as Bruck automatically stood.

“No need, younglings,” Master Dooku declared, one hand coming from behind his back to gesture for them to relax. “I am here to speak to young Bruck.” He shot Obi-Wan a quick glance, conveying curiosity for a moment before sitting down in the alcove. Being effectively dismissed, Obi-Wan retreated to near where the Guardian was now standing at attention, which was understandable. No one would want to be seen as anything less than impeccable for such a prestigious Jedi Master.

It hurt, to be dismissed with such casual indifference, but Obi-Wan could see that it mollified Bruck some. Given Master Dooku’s message, that was perhaps not the worst thing in the world.

“I am in contact with my family outside the Temple. Through them, I have become somewhat familiar with your family. Because of this connection, Master Yoda asked me to contact your relatives to see what, if any, input they have regarding recent events.”

Obi-Wan was at a bad angle to see how Bruck took that news, but it didn’t sound happy. Master Dooku nodded to whatever it was that he said, expression regal and sympathetic. “This must be quite a shock to you. As much as the Order tries to prepare us for anything, they often fail to consider outside ties sufficiently. Your family, in the meantime, is rallying with you. Your father is coming to retrieve you, to take you back home.”

Obi-Wan squirmed a little, edging away. He could hear the emotion from Bruck, if not the exact words. Relief. Astonishment. Joy. He shouldn’t be here for this. Obi-Wan started walking. He could hear Master Dooku murmur a request to talk to Bruck later that evening, then he was entirely out of earshot.

At the end of the corridor, Obi-Wan was stopped by someone calling his name. Not quite believing, he turned to see Master Dooku striding up to him. “Padawan Kenobi,” Master Dooku said as he reached the intersection. “I was hoping I might speak with you as well.”

“Of– of course Master Dooku,” Obi-Wan said, a little star-struck. Dooku might not be on the Council, but he was both _the_ best duelist in the Order, _and_ Yoda’s last padawan, not to mention Qui-Gon’s Master. Obi-Wan tightened his shields reflexively. This was no time for mistakes! “What can I help with?”

“No errands,” Dooku said, amused, “I only wish to talk. After all, Qui-Gon had sworn never to take a student again. Something that vexed me greatly, I admit. I wanted to see what kind of child could make my stubborn apprentice change his mind.”

“I– I’m not really anything special,” Obi-Wan objected, feeling as if his list of flaws were written on his face.

“No? Not to look at, perhaps, but I did hear that you and Initiate– forgive me, _former_ Initiate Chun were the top of your class, in lightsaber technique.”

“Well, yes,” Obi-Wan blushed, but not out of pride. His proficiency had landed him in trouble quite a few times, not the least of which was getting expelled from the temple. Oh Force, he hoped Dooku hadn’t stumbled over that bit of information.

“Mm. I suppose it’s possible he chose you on that merit alone. Qui-Gon _is_ skilled with the lightsaber, whatever his other shortcomings. Perhaps he wanted to pass on what he was best at?”

Obi-Wan’s spine stiffened, and he frowned. That couldn’t have been an insult, could it? It had almost sounded like one, but surely Master Dooku wouldn’t talk about Qui-Gon in such a fashion? “I’m sorry?”

“Tell me, has your master discussed the Jedi Code with you?”

Obi-Wan almost panicked, but he gulped it down, keeping his alarm off his face. “Master?”

“It’s a simple enough question – has Qui-Gon continued your teachings in the finer understanding of the Code?” Master Dooku sounded faintly impatient, as if Obi-Wan were slow or insolent. “It would be a pity if he were being derelict in his teaching duties,” he mused, sounding grave and thoughtful.

“Yes, Master, that is, Qui-Gon has been instructing me in the Jedi Code, and how it governs our interactions with those we serve.”

Half-truths and lies, but Obi-Wan hid his surge of guilt behind shields strengthened in civil war and durable enough to last through rigorous Council sessions. After all, Qui-Gon _was_ teaching him about the Jedi Code, and how the Jedi followed it. Mostly in relation to how it _differed_ from the Sith Code, but it still counted. Probably. Sort of. It was all a matter of perspective, right?

“And how do you feel about your Master?” Dooku’s gaze was assessing, patient. Predatory? No, that was Obi-Wan’s nerves talking.

Obi-Wan still wanted to punch Qui-Gon sometimes, almost as much as he wanted to punch himself – Garen was never far from his thoughts. That was personal business, though. Sith business, and not something outsiders were privy to, not even Master Dooku. Besides, anger wasn’t _all_ he felt for Qui-Gon.

“Qui-Gon is good and wise. I couldn’t ask for a better Master,” Obi-Wan answered truthfully.

“I see,” Dooku said after a long, considering look. “Hm. A pity, to waste such potential.”

Obi-Wan frowned, confused.

Master Dooku started to reach out a hand toward Obi-Wan, but a vice-grip on Obi-Wan’s shoulder yanked him back a step. Qui-Gon. It was Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan’s Master was all but bristling, interposing himself between Obi-Wan and Dooku. Obi-Wan hadn’t heard anyone approaching. Where had Qui-Gon even come from?

“Master,” Qui-Gon said, voice cold and hard.

“My old apprentice,” Dooku said, not phased in the slightest. In fact, he was smiling. “It’s good to see you so...vibrant.”

Qui-Gon said nothing.

“I have to say I enjoyed my talk with your new padawan. Such interesting answers, he gave,” Dooku continued smoothly. “I look forward to speaking with him again.”

“I’m sure you would, my old master, but I’m afraid our duties require us elsewhere right now.” Qui-Gon gave Dooku a stiff bow before stalking away, still with a grip on Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan was wide-eyed and gaping when the door to their quarters slid shut behind Qui-Gon. Master Dooku’s confusing words and Qui-Gon’s reaction to his master seemed to be pointing to a conclusion that had to be impossible. “Is _Master Dooku_ one of _us_?” Obi-wan gasped as Qui-Gon finally let go of his shoulder.

“ _No_ ,” Qui-Gon snarled, hands clenching into fists. Obi-Wan took an instinctive half-step back. Qui-Gon paused at that, then slumped and ran a hand over his face. “Gods.” He sounded abruptly exhausted. “Obi-Wan, it’s all right. I’m not angry at you.”

Obi-Wan tried to take that at face value. “Then...Master Dooku is a Jedi?”

Qui-Gon looked at him for a long moment, possibly judging how likely it was that Obi-Wan would let the matter drop.

Not likely at all. Qui-Gon must have seen that, for he sighed and motioned to the table in the kitchen area. “Sit down. I’ll make some tea. And then...there’s something I should tell you.”

Obi-Wan sat, trying not to fidget. He could see that the tea was less about the tea and more for Qui-Gon’s state of mind, giving him time to collect his thoughts and calm himself.

When he was seated opposite of Obi-Wan, cups of tea in front of them both, Qui-Gon took a deep breath. “Are you familiar with Dooku’s area of study?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes.” It was a bit controversial, but Master Dooku was respected and trusted enough that, while it raised some eyebrows, nobody truly objected. “His field of study is the….” Obi-Wan’s eyes grew wide. “Sith,” he breathed, half a curse.

“Hiding in plain sight.” Qui-Gon smiled without humour.

Shock and confusion went to war within Obi-Wan. He had no idea what to do with this, especially given Qui-Gon’s earlier – vehement – insistence that Dooku was not one of them. “Then, Dooku is…”

“Dooku is a Sith,” Qui-Gon bit out.

Questions whirled inside Obi-Wan. Had Dooku taught Qui-Gon to be a Sith? Had it been a mutual decision to go from Jedi to Sith, one that Qui-Gon had later regretted? Or had they both run afoul of yet _another_ Sith? When had it happened? Why hadn’t they told the Order, or had they told the Order? Had the Sith never really been destroyed, or was Dooku solely to blame for it all? Had Qui-Gon almost aged out, like Obi-Wan, and made a similar choice?

There was one question more immediately relevant than the others, so Obi-Wan started there. “And we’re hiding what I am because…?”

“Because he’s a monster,” Qui-Gon snarled, voice harsh. Obi-Wan recoiled, not able to help himself. This was his _m_ _aster_ Qui-Gon was talking about. One of the most respected members of the Order.

Qui-Gon must have seen Obi-Wan’s reaction, from the way he stared down and muttered quiet curses into his tea. After venting some truly foul language, Qui-Gon took a deep breath. “Force, I doubt I could make more of a hash of this if I tried. Obi-Wan, are you well?”

“I’m fine.” Obi-Wan said in a small voice, curled back in his chair and trying not to look as if this entire discussion was beyond horrible and confusing.

Qui-Gon scrubbed a hand over his face before sighing and lifting his arm a little. It was as clear an invitation as Obi-Wan had ever seen, an offer with no presumptions, no pressure. He didn’t wait or think on it too much, scooting his chair around the table and letting Qui-Gon settle that arm around his shoulders.

“Is Master Dooku evil?” Obi-Wan asked, subdued. Maybe he was overstepping his bounds, but given Qui-Gon’s response to Dooku, it was a question that needed to be asked.

The fact that Qui-Gon chewed the question over for a bit was anything but reassuring. “I don’t...know. He values power, and control. He can best get both of those by staying exactly where he is – being a well-respected Jedi Master, acting in the Order’s best interests.” Qui-Gon gave Obi-Wan a very stern look. “But I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

Well, obviously not. Obi-Wan didn’t want to be anywhere near the man himself. Still. He gave his master a stubborn look. “I can handle myself.”

Qui-Gon’s return smile was a weary, fond expression. “I am sure you can, Apprentice. However, Dooku is a Sith Master, and he will not hesitate to take advantage of a situation in whatever way he can. He is _never_ to be trusted.”

Certainty rang in his voice, vibrating in the Force.

“Are…are you certain?”

If anything, Qui-Gon’s voice grew even harder. “ _Very_.”

There had to be more, to make his master that certain, that iron-solid in his stance. Obi-Wan had pried enough for today, though. The silence stretched on, until Obi-Wan took a sip of his tea. “So,” he said, cautious but hoping that the change in subject might be acceptable. “How is the inquest going so far?”

It was well worth Qui-Gon’s tired, relieved little smile, and the comfort of his master’s arm remaining about his shoulders.

* * *

Bant stood with the other beings who had testified in the inquest, off to the side of the Council meeting room. Master Jinn and Master Giett stood in the center, surrounded by the leaders of the Order.

The Force was thick in the room, but calm. Everyone there knew that the Council would find in favor of Master Jinn and Master Giett. The Council had had to carry out the investigation, but everyone knew that the masters had done all that they could.

She swallowed, using the time it took to steady her breathing and emotions. It was hard. Garen’s loss _hurt_ , but as Jedi, they weren’t supposed to show that. Perhaps they weren’t supposed to feel it, either, but she wasn’t even a padawan, so if any being had a problem with it she could use that as a reasonable excuse.

Didn’t make it any easier, though. She rather wished she could be as brave as Obi-Wan, who didn’t bother to hide his hurt very well. Then again, he had a master, had been picked by Master Jinn, who seemed to be more accepting of expression of emotion than some other masters. She tried not to be too jealous, but that was also hard.

Master Tyvokka tapped a button on his chair, a small chime signaling the start of the session and that the recorders were now on. [In the matter of the Temple bombing, and the deaths of Jedi Master Ali-Alann, Jedi Initiate Garen Muln, and former Jedi Xanatos du Crion, the Council finds Masters Qui-Gon Jinn and Micah Giett to have behaved with all due propriety and diligence. Their actions are found to have adhered to the Code at all times, and they are declared not guilty of any wrongdoing or negligence.]

Masters Jinn and Giett bowed to the Council, stepping back to join the others at the side. Master Tyvokka’s expression turned a little fiercer, a little more solemn. [Now on to the matter of Bruck Chun.]

Bruck stepped up to the center of the room, chin high, more stubborn than serene. He bowed to the Council, though it was shallow, his body language stiff.

[The Council finds Bruck Chun culpable in the matter of the Temple bombing, and the deaths of Jedi Master Ali-Alann and Jedi Initiate Garen Muln. This is of course mitigated by his youth and willingness to assist the Council in uncovering details relevant to our investigations. Therefore the Council has decided to expel Bruck Chun from the Jedi Order, placing him with his birth-family.]

Bruck gave them another, even more shallow and stiff bow before turning and stalking back to his spot. Master Tyvokka brought the inquest to a close, and everyone started filing out. Bant watched Obi-Wan. He was staring after Bruck with some strange expression, something between thoughtful and a little sad. She was pretty sure he was worrying away at potential ways to help the expelled ex-initiate somehow.

Sometimes, it was hard being friends with Obi-Wan Kenobi. He wasn’t...conventional, but he could be so much more... _Jedi_ than anyone. Sure, he might not have the polite serenity and whatnot, but when it came to people, well. Bruck was part of the reason Garen was dead, and here Obi-Wan was, trying to figure out ways to help him. It wasn’t pity, and it certainly wasn’t because Obi-Wan preferred Bruck over Garen, but....

That was just how Obi-Wan was.

Bant jumped as those around her started to file out of the chamber. She moved along with them, not sure if she wanted to talk with Obi-Wan or not. He had stepped off to the side of the Council’s antechamber, Master Qui-Gon going over to put a hand on his shoulder, exchange a few quiet words. Obi-Wan was still frowning thoughtfully at Bruck, who was approaching a middle-aged gentleman talking with Master Dooku. That man was human, with dark gray hair but the same pale blue eyes as Bruck. He had a smile for Bruck, and an awkward pat on the head.

Master Dooku stepped away to give them some privacy, striding through the small, milling crowd over to Master Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. He had a warm smile for Master Qui-Gon, and Bant came into earshot in time to hear Master Dooku congratulating Master Qui-Gon on being cleared of any possible wrongdoing. He then beamed down at Obi-Wan, who was watching Master Dooku with a strange, blank look.

“And your student deserves accolades as well, of course. Quite a fine padawan you have, Qui-Gon. He handled himself as well as _any_ padawan in the Jedi Order.”

Master Qui-Gon dipped his head in a modest bow, murmuring the quiet thanks of any proper Jedi to his old master. Master Qui-Gon was not one for pride, instead he seemed to prefer the most modest of acknowledgements.

Master Dooku’s hand rose to his beard to stroke it thoughtfully, and he gave Master Qui-Gon a smile. “You know, you have been quite the inspiration.” Master Qui-Gon’s head jerked up, and he looked at his master with a blank expression. “Given your masterful training of future Jedi, I have been thinking of taking on a student myself. Young Obi-Wan here cannot be the only youngling in need of a teacher, now could he?”

Master Qui-Gon stared at him for a moment, and the obvious astonishment that he could inspire someone like Master Dooku was written all over his face. Then he ducked his head again, in that fast and almost clipped version of a bow. “I would not know. Excuse me.”

Bant watched Master Qui-Gon stalk off, once again with that stern air to him that she found so intimidating. She glanced back at Master Dooku, who had gone to share quiet words with Bruck Chun’s father.

She had to wonder, of course. The Council – Master Yoda! – had told her she was ready to be a padawan. Master Dooku had been Master Yoda’s student, and might have told Master Yoda something of his future plans. Even so, surely Master Dooku couldn’t mean her! She turned and walked back to the crèche, hands tucked into opposing sleeves. Oh, this was so confusing. In part, she did hope very much that it might be her. She wanted to be a padawan so very much, and Master Yoda had said she was ready!

But...Master Dooku? He was a great duelist, an impeccable diplomat, and a great leader. Bant was...well...not really any of those things. She understood that as a padawan, she wasn’t expected to be, but–

She wasn’t sure how well she could be any of those things. She was an adequate duelist, and she got decent grades on diplomacy work, but a leader? Bant was good at logistics, maths, and maybe a little in healing.

Yes, she wanted to be a padawan. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to be Master Dooku’s padawan, though. It felt awful, like she was being picky about what could be a great honor.

Well. _Could_ be. She could be getting all worked up about nothing, if Master Dooku had not in fact meant her. Bant nodded to herself, lifting her head high again. She would trust in the Force, and whatever was happening would work out in the end.

* * *

Qui-Gon was almost shaking as he walked into their quarters, palming the door shut so as to make sure it was locked. Gods, it was good he hadn’t eaten much before today’s Council verdict.

“Master?” Obi-Wan’s voice was quiet, tentative. Not scared, thank the Force, but–

Oh, this could not continue. “Sit down, please.”

Obi-Wan took one end of the sofa, and Qui-Gon took the other. He had to face this. He had to– oh gods, taking a student had been one of the worst decisions he ever made.

“Master, what’s wrong?”

Qui-Gon had to work to keep his breathing under control. “Do not trust Dooku, Obi-Wan. I made that mistake.” He gave a sharp, bitter bark that was likely nowhere near laughter. “I made it countless times over.”

Pale and silent, Obi-Wan nodded.

“You must have realized that I left out some details, earlier.”

“I- Yes, but-” Obi-Wan trailed off awkwardly.

“You didn’t want to pry into my business?”

Obi-Wan nodded.

“Thank you. It’s true I’ve never spoken of this before. I would prefer _never_ to speak of this. But it _is_ your business now.”

Qui-Gon took a fortifying breath. “I did not realize for the longest time that the things I was learning from Dooku were not merely unusual approaches. I thought my master to be unconventional, not manipulative. I thought my master to be a Jedi.” Qui-Gon took a moment batten down the old, helpless rage. “He waged a years-long stealth campaign to teach me the Dark side, so that by the time I realized what was going on, I was in too deep to get out.” Ah, he could feel the dawning understanding, the slow horror building up.

He knew that feeling far too well. “After all, who would ever believe a mere padawan over Dooku, student of _Yoda_ , for gods’ sakes?” Bitterness crept into Qui-Gon’s words. “A student accusing his teacher of training him in illicit directions, leading him down forbidden paths. Absurd. A feeble attempt to scrape oneself out of a hole one has dug, despite all the _tender, concerned_ effort your teacher has put into showing you the proper way.”

“He...set you up?” Obi-Wan whispered.

Qui-Gon tilted his head, not quite a nod of acknowledgement. “In the end, it took until my eyes were starting to show _yellow_ from the amount of Darkness I was channeling before I could bring myself to believe– Gods I was such a _fool_.” Qui-Gon dropped his head down, face in hands. “I went to my master. I had a well-crafted speech, countless arguments and examples.” He scoffed. “I suppose because I did not want to believe my master was knowingly teaching me to be Dark. When I confronted him about it, he didn’t even try to deny it. He admitted it freely. He was teaching me to be a Sith.” Qui-Gon had to force himself to breathe, take in three measured breaths. “Of course, then there was no longer any reason for him to hold back. The slim facade he had bothered with in private vanished.” He could not look at the boy. His _apprentice_. Gods, what was he doing? “The next thing Dooku taught me was Force lightning. That was… interesting.” Qui-Gon couldn’t bring himself to expand on it, couldn’t bring himself to burden Obi-Wan with that knowledge. Being tortured with Force-lightning, day after day until he learned to block it out of sheer self-preservation, and then the Sith-healing which had almost been _worse_. No.

They sat in silence for a moment, the small apartment dark and uncanny. “I learned how to hate him,” Qui-Gon admitted, “and that made my powers stronger, and that only made me hate it all so much more. You have to admit it’s a neat little trap.” It was odd, how it was a relief to be telling someone at long last. Talking made it more real, though, as if he were giving the ghosts of his past substance by acknowledging their existence. Gods. Qui-Gon inhaled, using the motion to sit upright, to _look_ at the poor fool who’d volunteered to be his student. He should have told Obi-Wan– _warned_ Obi-Wan about it all from the very beginning.

At the same time, he hated having to do it at all. Old wounds were not better for being reopened.

There was still one aspect he needed to touch on. “There’s a reason why I’m explaining all this. After me, Dooku took another student.”

“He did?” Obi-Wan asked, startled.

“Mm. I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of her. Komari Vosa. Dooku took the lies he’d perfected on me, and did the same to her, or so I suspect. Only, something went wrong. I don’t know if it was the Dark side or Dooku’s manipulations, but she became emotionally unstable. Dooku turned his back on her rather than try to help, and Vosa disappeared, possibly off into the Outer Rim somewhere.”

Obi-Wan was as pale as Qui-Gon had ever seen him, face blank though wide-eyed. Thirteen. A child, just _thirteen_ , and he’d already survived a warzone and a friend’s death. It wasn’t fair to be loading him down with this, but it would be far, far worse to let the boy anywhere near Dooku with no warning whatsoever.

“This was around the time of my own…my own failure with Xanatos. I was reckless and angry. I went to Dooku, and I told him that one ruined student each was enough. I swore that if he ever took an apprentice again, I would tell the Council everything. Verify it any way they deemed fit.”

Obi-Wan was quick to make the connection. “But now he has leverage.”

Qui-Gon nodded. “I have taken a student. Dooku will do the same. Whether to spite me or out of a sincere desire to twist some other being to his will, I don’t know. It doesn't matter _why_ , in the end, only that he will.” Qui-Gon had to take another deep breath. “Likely one of your agemates. And he will train them, as he trained me, as he trained Vosa.”

Obi-Wan swallowed, then nodded. “How do we stop him?”

Qui-Gon reached out, gently putting his hand on one of Obi-Wan’s balled up fists, folding it into a careful grip and squeezing just once in reassurance. One did not need the Force to tell that the boy was already thinking on how to stop being Qui-Gon’s student, and that– no. He’d bungled this quite enough already, but trying to wash his hands of the matter would not improve anything in the least.

“I don’t know. Will you help me figure it out?”

The invitation, the hidden statement that Obi-Wan’s place was in no danger, even for another – it was there, delivered and heard. Obi-Wan’s smile was a fleeting thing, uncertain and faint, but there. Obi-Wan’s fist uncurled, and he gripped Qui-Gon’s hand. “Of course, Master.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you're curious about Qui-Gon's apprenticeship, there's a short fic [here.](http://norcumi.tumblr.com/post/115161256099/break-fic-for-flamethrower-judgement) ^_^


End file.
